Vertigo turns the world into a clockwork of 3D moving parts. Walking is a calculated shuffle so nothing tilts. Getting behind the wheel of a car – dangerous. Reading, impossible. I know the shape of every crack in the bedroom ceiling as I lie, rendered useless and incapable. I am the imbalance of Venlafaxine’s Withdrawal.
Nausea is a game of roulette – some things stay down, some don’t. Getting sick is a relief. Eating is almost impossible. I am the starvation of Venlafaxine’s Withdrawal.
Diarrhea, intense, abundant and unforgiving, is its own feat of nature. The weight loss does not compensate for the humiliation, pain and cramps. I can’t leave the house for fear the world will drop out of my bottom. A clumsy stagger to the loo to make the deadline, the unceremonial sounds that reverberate from the poorly insulated bathroom are an undignified way to break in a new relationship. I am the detox of Venlaxafine Withdrawal.
Diarrhea/vomitting are the lethal combination. So sick I thoughtlessly stop eating and drinking because it just comes straight back up. My world is tilted and my mind is chaotic. I forget all about keeping lithium blood concentrations regulated, I forget about the danger of organ failure and the possibility of death. And then when lithium blood results return five times higher than the normal therapeutic range, you shit yourself….. literally…. and figuratively. Sitting cramping on the toilet, I write out a meagre will. I am the organ failure of Venlafaxine’s Withdrawal.
The impulse to cry is constant, and cause unknown. No valid reason other than I am immeasureably sad. The daily weeping endless and inconsolable. I am ashamed by my sorrow, I have failed as a functioning bipolar. I am the grief of Venlafaxine’s Withdrawal.
And then there’s The Fear. No self-respecting person would call it ‘anxiety’. It’s far, far bigger than that. Its a cold, hard entity that bubbles from the stomach and every marrow of your bones. It fills your lungs until you choke and cough and claw at your throat. It keeps you chained under the bed covers and locked inside the four walls of your home. It pursues you as you crawl into dark spaces to hide and sit, knees drawn to your chest, to cry, to scream. It accelarates your heartbeat and you gag and cannot exhale. Your heart pumps more and more dread and despair and you doubt your own suvival. I am the terrorism of Venlafaxine’s Withdrawal.
The isolation. Booked off from work for a substantial amount of time. Out of the loop, cut off, confidence waning, anxiety rising. Normally a happy recluse , I find no peace being shut in by vertigo, dictated to by diarrhea and having my hands tied by fear. That Fear, that icy cracking in my veins making everything mission impossible. I am the lonely confinement of Venlaxafine’s Withdrawal.
I am in pieces. I am the laughing stock of Venlaxafine’s Withdrawal.
But soon my time will come. I will patch my pieces together again. As I have done time and time again. And I will be the success of Venlaxafine’s Withdrawal.